


Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too (Aka. Fool's Hope)

by emmbrancsxx0



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Endgame Destiel, M/M, it's making me think about it and write shit like this, this is a subtweet at dabb, ways for destiel to go canon, why are we all thinking about the end of spn lately?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 07:32:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmbrancsxx0/pseuds/emmbrancsxx0
Summary: Maybe it was time to say it out loud.





	Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too (Aka. Fool's Hope)

Dean risked a peek over the rubbled remains of the wall they were crouching behind to see if anything was headed their way. All clear. That meant Sam’s plan was working - so far, so good. He didn’t want to say it out loud.

He settled back in next to Cas, and looked down at the gun in his lap. Because, by the end of this, every fang, claw, and evil son of a bitch would be dead - or he would be. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t dying with a gun in his hand.

Then, he chanced a look at Castiel sitting beside him, blade just as ready as Dean’s gun for when things went south. For when they needed to fight. But right now, they were waiting for Sam’s cue. They had a minute to breathe - and Dean listened to it, the steady, familiar rhythm of Cas’ breath. He didn’t know when he’d memorized it, but he knew their pattern like he knew his own, like they shared it, like when two people walked in stride side-by-side.

Cas would breathe out; and Dean would breathe in.

They hadn’t had a moment like this in weeks - what with all the running, what with the fire and the ash, what with leaving behind the place they called a home.

Dean didn’t know how to give that up, now that he’d had it. A place to rest his head at night, a closet to put his clothes in, a drawer to store his knives, a fridge to keep his beer cold. He couldn’t go back to random motel after random motel. He couldn’t give up having a place that was his, having some peace.

Just like he couldn’t give up listening to the pattern of Castiel’s breathing.

Maybe - he told himself, even if he didn’t believe it - he wouldn’t have to. Maybe Cas would believe it for him. Maybe he couldn’t just have a place that was his, but someone that was his, too. Someone to share it.

Maybe it was time to say it out loud.

“You know, Cas, I was thinking,” he started, pausing to dart his tongue over his lips, just to save himself some time, just to ask himself if he was really going to bring this up - here, of all places. Now.

What the hell? There might not be another chance.

“We get out of this, we should go find a house somewhere.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Castiel’s profile frown in thought. He turned towards Dean, confusion on his face. Something about it made the corners of Dean’s mouth turn up as he remembered a canted head and big, curious eyes so new to his world. And then Cas let out a breath, like he did before he was about to be direct about something unfortunate - something Dean already knew but didn’t want to say aloud in fear of jinxing it. Cas never really got the whole fool’s hope thing that humans do down pat.

“Dean, there’s a good chance we won’t get out of -”

“Humor me,” Dean cut him off, because, yeah, Cas might jinx it. He lifted one shoulder. “Just a thought. When all this is over, we could buy a place. With, I dunno, a fenced in backyard and a barbecue. Maybe a porch or somethin’.” He swallowed passed the tightness in his throat, and almost didn’t say it: “You and me.”

Castiel’s forehead was pinched again, but in the way it got when Dean surprised him, when he felt an awe that he hadn’t quite expected to, even after all this time. His eyes searched Dean’s face, burning right through him. Dean felt that gaze under his skin. He always wondered just how deep Cas saw into him - into his muscles? his bones? his heart? Maybe deeper. Maybe right down to his soul.

“And Sam,” Castiel wondered, like he was testing a theory.

“Well, yeah,” Dean laughed. There wasn’t a future Dean wanted without Sam in it. “But I was thinking he could get a place of his own next door.”

Cas blinked, his expression softening, and Dean felt a blush creep up his ears.

“’Cause, you know,” he muttered, clearing his throat, trying to be casual. “It’d be easier for him to find a nice girl and start a family without us hanging around twenty-four-seven.”

“Right,” Castiel answered with a slight nod, that gentle but intense look still on his face. Only now, his lips were curving up, too. “Of course. For Sam.”

Dean looked back down to his lap, a giddiness fluttering through his stomach that did not belong in such a place, before such a battle. “Could be good,” he said.

And maybe Castiel did fool’s hope better than Dean thought, because he took Dean’s hand, resting on his knee, and slipped their fingers together. Dean felt himself smile as Castiel brushed his thumb along Dean’s skin. He thought of Cas’ hands. He thought of the mark on his shoulder that he couldn’t see anymore, but he could still feel sometimes. He thought of all the times those hands had healed and hurt and beaten and saved him.

He thought of that hand in his for a long time to come - for years - in their house with the fence and the porch.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas agreed. “It could be.”


End file.
